A writer writes, always! Maybe not through a pen or a pencil or a keyboard. But everyday , when we walk in the street on our way to the office or to the school, we stitch pieces of ideas, imagine and assume what people are doing or going through, then came up with our own opinions – that’s when we became writer.

“Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.”

I know crying is all I need. A long hard cry. I was silently hoping that this tears will take away , well maybe not all, but some of my heavy baggage’s inside. I’ve been wanting to cry so hard not minding if my eyes may swell. But I know I can’t, coz’ I’m living in a place where even when you snort to deep sleep , your neighbor can hear it. But I really need to cry this feeling out. I don’t have someone to talk to … leaving me with no choice but to keep all my heartaches to myself; my only outlet at times , my only option is to let this tears run dry. I know it will not solve the problem itself but it will lessen the burden inside.

Ever since my parents separated ways when I was 10 years old, crying alone out at night has become my outlet, it has become my comfort zone. Crying myself out has been my charger, it is where I’m getting my strength.

For me, crying isn’t a sin neither it isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of being strong. It’s an indication that throughout the day, I was fighting the life’s reality so hard that at night I need to recharge myself through releasing all those pains, doubts, fears and all the negative thoughts. So that tomorrow, I will courageously face the world again.

“…you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning

I’m originally a self-proclaimed Cebuana Poet and writer. Way back when I was in Cebu – my hometown-I wrote every day. I wrote corny poems, short love stories-the one that makes someone’s twitter-patted (kilig), I wrote articles which were even published in our school paper. I wrote everything under the sun-my crushes, my pain, my emptiness, my anger, everything. It’s my way of releasing my stress. That was-writing-was my outlet.

It all changes since we lived here in Manila, year 2007. I’m finding it hard to release what I’m feeling, I cannot concentrate. I can’t find the right words to write. That’s why I felt suffocated, kasi wala akong nagiging outlet. I’ve got no one to talk to, not even my mother. All my friends were in Cebu.I find it hard accepting new friends because I still cling to my past. I became a stranger in a place where I don’t have a choice but to call it HOME! I felt alone. Out of place. Lost.

Yet, I know I don’t have a choice but to continue my life, to survive in this world of chaos and adjust with the current culture, a culture which is totally opposite to the one I was acquainted with. Pinabayaan ko ang passion ko, kinalimutan ko. There even came a time that I couldn’t construct a good sentence. I couldn’t form a paragraph.

Hindi na ako yung leader type na Joanna. I’m often tired of accepting responsibilities. Nakontento ako just as a member. I miss my old self. Yung strong will ko to be a leader who accepts challenges and responsibilities with all her heart. Now, I’m almost afraid of challenges-and it is so not me. I am not the kind of person who just sat in a corner silently and just accept ideas. I was the one who likes to debates, I always had a new and unique ideas and I am active, I love to move and run and direct plays at school and organized programs and activities in our school. I always had the desire to be the winner,to be the best. Not so perfectionist though but I’m no mediocre also. That was before. I guess I left part of myself in Cebu, in my past. And now even if I go back there, it would never be the same, I will never find that part of me again.